


Storm Clouds on the Horizon

by WildwoodMage



Series: Dead Reckoning (Nanowrimo 2020) [3]
Category: Sonic Underground, Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types, Sonic the Hedgehog: The Animated Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Politics, Rebellion, Rough draft to be revised at a later date, Tags May Change, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwoodMage/pseuds/WildwoodMage
Summary: Following the events of Collision Course. The first chaos emerald has been retrieved, but the game is not over. After so long alone, trust does not come easy to Sonia and Manic. They try anyway, even when it hurts.
Relationships: Manic the Hedgehog & Sonia the Hedgehog
Series: Dead Reckoning (Nanowrimo 2020) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013133
Kudos: 7





	Storm Clouds on the Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> November is over but the story sure isn't! I don't anything planned in between the ending of Collision Course and the next stage of my outline, so we'll find out together what happens next. In the meantime, here's a quick refresher on names and pronouns:  
> Sonia Windermere, she/her, 25.  
> Manic Ferrell('s kid), he/she/they, 25.  
> Sonic Charley, he/him, 25.  
> Sally Acorn, she/her, 27.  
> Rouge Bijoux, she/her, 30.  
> Shadow Ultimate Lifeform, they/them, ??? (appears 20-something)  
> Dr Ivo Robotnik, the Good Doctor, he/him, ???  
> Agent Stone, he/him, ???
> 
> Find art and ask questions at sonicdeadreckoning.tumblr.com

The fake pity in Stone's eyes felt like grit under Sonia's skin. She didn't bother to soften her burning glare in return. The situation she found herself in was a delicate one. Very few disappointed the Good Doctor and lived to tell the tale. But groveling would not save Sonia's skin, and if groveling had been the only alternative, she would have taken the roboticizer without a second thought. If Robotnik meant to dispose of her--or replace her with a shining metal model--she would spit and curse until she no longer had the capacity for defiance.

But that was the worst-case scenario, and not inevitable, not yet. It just happened that righteous fury was a weapon that Sonia had honed to a cruel edge, and she wouldn't shrink away from turning it against Robotnik himself, especially when it that was her best chance of standing her ground.

"I hope you have an explanation," Stone said, voice smooth as the cooling lava that now flowed into the Catacombs. "The Doctor has every right to be furious."

"I have questions for the Doctor as well," Sonia said. After climbing straight from the Catacombs to the heights of the Citadel, she'd taken no time to scrub the grit from her skin or curl her hair back into place, and yet she spoke with grace and confidence that would not have been out of place behind a podium or on a television screen. Without a hint of a smile on her face, the effect was regal and chilling, and a more timid man would have been sent scurrying away. Stone was unmoved.

The elevator slowed, then stopped at the tower penthouse. Penthouse was something of an understatement. Sonia had only ever briefly glimpsed the heart of the Good Doctor's palace. What she saw when the doors slid open was a labyrinth rivaling the tunnels she had just left behind, as twisted and needlessly intricate as Robotnik's train of thought. Somewhere on the floors above, the Good Doctor crafted machines that laughed in the face of nature, bent physics to his will. Assuming some fragile part of him was still human, it was here that he ate and slept. Sonia would not bet on that. But here, in the threshold just outside the elevator, was where Sonia would learn whether she still had the Good Doctor's favor, or if she would have to go down swinging.

Stone held out an arm, gesturing for Sonia to proceed. "Good luck," he said. It would have been sarcastic, if he cared even a little whether she lived or died. Sonia did not spare him a glance as she stepped across the threshold.

The last time she had set foot in the penthouse, she'd waited for what felt like hours. Nerves and impatience mixed into a potent cocktail that had her wanting to claw at the walls, testing the limits of her impeccable discipline. It was clear long before Robotnik deigned to meet with her that he thought very little of her. Sonia learned soon after that he thought very little of everybody. In his mind, Robotnik had transcended the petty limitations of humanity, and never had much patience for those he left behind. Sonia was no exception. It was refreshing, almost, when Robotnik told her to her face that he loathed her as much as he loathed the rest of the aristocracy, that he couldn't wait to replace them with mecanical mannequins, and that her job was to keep the spoiled simpletons happy and docile until he no longer had any reason to play nice. It was honesty like that which made him such a terrible politician.

Robotnik didn't keep her waiting this time, but instead stormed down the stairs as if he, instead, had been fuming as impatience and anxiety pressure-cooked his temper. Robotnik was a huge man in every sense of the word. Both tall and wide, his sweeping coat and bristling moustache made him seem even larger, as did the way he gestured theatrically as he spoke and refused to keep to an inside voice.

"Lady Windermere!" he said, pouring such malice into the words that Sonia was almost impressed. "I have a riddle for you. No, don't interrupt, I know you're exhausted from failing at the most important mission of your lifetime, but just try to puzzle this one out. Here it is; 'Why did a government operative, the Ultimate Lifeform, and a masterpiece of engineering let the Resistance waltz out of the city with a invaluable source of limitless power?' I'll give you a hint. The answer rhymes with 'bross pincompetence.'"

Sonia ground her teeth together with the effort it took to keep her mouth shut. She briefly fantasized about breaking the Good Doctor's glasses against her knuckles. Then she reminded herself how unflattering prison uniforms were to one's figure. “Would you like me to explain, or did you have Stone drag me here so we could play riddle games? Will I be staying the night? Shall I paint your nails, Doctor?”

“Fine, how about another? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you into an espresso machine. At least then you’d be useful, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you started ruining my afternoon latte as well! I shouldn’t be surprised now; see, this is what I get when I trust a spoiled upstart with something that actually matters.”

“Did you trust me with this mission?” Sonia didn’t have to feign the acid leaching into her words. If it wasn’t her life on the line, Sonia would have taken exquisite delight in cutting Robotnik off before he could reply. “Curious, because one would assume that, if expected to succeed, I would be provided with adequate intel. I had the chaos emerald in my hands, Doctor. If I had known that it would interfere with a roboticized individual’s programming, I would never have brought Leon on the mission. The emerald would be yours, right now. Tell me, Doctor, did you forget to tell me about your masterpiece’s glaring weakness, or did it simply never occur to you to research whether the emerald’s energy would disrupt the very machine charged with retrieving it?”

Robotnik’s face was beet-red, and Sonia was painfully aware of how her fate hung on a roll of the dice. Robotnik did not tolerate failure, and he hated being challenged far more. But Sonia had seen far too many try to kiss his feet, only to be kicked away regardless. Sycophants were replaceable. She was not.

Before Robotnik could decide whether to roboticize her or kill her slowly, Stone cut in, thoughtful and carefully inoffensive. “We suspected that a chaos emerald might have strange effects on a robian, but total regression to one’s former personality is more severe than I anticipated.”

Sonia didn’t know if she liked accepting Stone’s help, but the fact remained that he had thrown her a lifeline, and she wasn’t going to reject it out of hand. “I suppose it would be difficult to research the details of something that, until recently, was only a myth. I have already recorded my own observations, although the experience was—appropriately—rather chaotic.”

Robotnik’s cheeks did not yet return to their usual color, and likely would not for some time. Still, the murderous edge had left his scowl, and that was enough for now. He grumbled irritably to himself, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses on his sleeve. “A firsthand account will be useful, and I can use the SwatBots’ readings to make my chaos energy sensors more accurate.” His eyes temporarily exposed, Sonia could see as his expression abruptly shifted, taking on a gleam of malevolent delight. “That emerald could lead us right to whatever hole the Resistance is hiding in.”

The Good Doctor’s enmity had passed on to another target. Sonia didn’t waste her time worrying about the Resistance, who had dug their metaphorical beds long ago. She did worry, against her will, and only for a moment, about Manic. But he too made his own decisions. It wasn’t Sonia’s responsibility to protect him, even when his first instinct in the face of death had been to hold onto her with all his strength.


End file.
